A Macabre Beauty and the Beast Halloween Tale
by Scrappy LeMonte
Summary: A lighthearted tale for Halloween. Please visit my blog, mahreyscreativewriting dot wordpress dot com , for all my BatB fiction, including an adult-only version of Engines of Tunnel Industry, an a novel I'm working on. I would really, really appreciate some feedback! :) Thank you for reading!


Batb Halloween Story

"Morrigan! Morrigan!" Badb yelled. His transparent dragon-fly wings buzzed as he flew furiously through the caverns, searching for her. _Not on the second level…on to the fourth!_

"Morrigan! Morrigan!" Macha screeched. She sped through the air like a shot; her wings the rainbow colors of an oil slick. She also was about the size of a dragonfly. "Curses!" she yelled. Her voice was the raspy scrape of exhaled helium. _Not on the third level…on to the fifth!_

Badb and Macha rendezvoused at the hub as planned. Their scowls apprised one another better than words that she'd eluded them. They knew where she must be: the old man's chamber. They turned, and shot toward their target.

"…_and the ploughboy, loitering homeward of a still summer evening, has often fancied his voice at a distance, chanting a melancholy psalm tune among the tranquil solitudes of Sleepy Hollow." _Father concluded the story pronouncing each word distinctly in his melodic Received Pronunciation; savoring each word slowly, lovingly. The children, Samantha, Geoffrey, Zach, Eric and at least a dozen others, sitting in a semi-circle before him exhaled the pent up suspense created by his sublime story-telling skill. The adults, Vincent, Catherine, Mouse, Mary, Pascal, children at heart, sitting in the second tier, more further back, also exhaled, released from a spell they had been unaware was holding them.

Hovering far above their heads, indiscernible to mortal senses, Morrigan and Eriu, on the wing, circled each other.

"Craven wraith from blackest hell," intoned Eriu, her voice of the same exhaled helium timbre as Badb and Macha, yet lower in pitch, "return thee now to where thou dost dwell! Thy powers are weak and on the wane, return to hell, resume thy chains!"

"Thou hast no power o'er me on this Samhain, be gone, Eriu, back from whence ye came!" snarled Morrigan, "Highest heaven or blackest hell, avaunt foul vapor, as I ring thrice the bell!" A bell appeared at her side, and pealed sharply as she counted out, "One! Two! Three!" And with that, Eriu popped like a balloon, and was gone.

Badb and Macha swept before her as Eriu disappeared. They glanced from one to another. With Eriu gone, they were free to work their evil on this band of weak, puny humans. They tipped their heads back and laughed merrily.

"Wow, that was a good one, Father! Tell us another one!" the children cried.

"No, no, I need you children to come help me carve jack-o-lanterns," said Mary, herding them together. Over her shoulder, she said, "They'll need adults to take them trick or treating later. Winslow, it would be nice if you could go with them."

"Psssh!" said Jamie, rolling her eyes and snapping her neck back. "Good luck with that."

"That's enough from you, little girl," growled Winslow. "I'd be happy to," he answered Mary.

"I love Halloween!" said Catherine. "The air is cool and crisp, the night," she paused to sigh, "the night seems to be more _still_ than usual," she paused and looked around playfully, her eyes twinkling. She continued, "…and the darkness presses in upon us; the air crackles with potent magical energy, untapped, waiting for the sorcerer with the greatest skill and power who will MAKE MANIFEST—HIS WILL!"

"That was nice, Catherine," said Father, sincerely.

"I could go on," she answered, "I didn't even start talking about the moon."

"Her luminous green eye cast its wan pallor over earth-" Vincent began.

"Hey!" cried Catherine. "Cut it out! You're taking up all the words!" She swatted at him playfully; he caught her hands.

"What do you need words for? You don't need any words," he teased her.

"I need words! Maybe I'm going to make up a ghost story, you don't know!" Catherine cried.

"Psssh!" hissed Vincent, imitating Jamie's neck snap and eye roll. Catherine clapped her hands and shouted with laughter. He had to wait for everyone to stop laughing before he could continue. "I know, I know everything about you, you're not making up any stories," Vincent sneered in jest to tease her. It was so good to see them light-hearted! And Vincent, _impishly, spontaneously_ imitating a teenager's slang and gestures in an attempt at _humor_? Vincent, teasing? They hadn't seen that since he was a child.

"Hey—let's make up ghost stories!" cried Mouse. "We can have a contest; whoever wins gets…hmm, what could we play for?"

They thought. Pascal laughed. "I know. King or Queen of the Halloween Ball."

"What Halloween Ball?" they asked severally.

"We'll have to have one," said Pascal, still smiling.

"Oh, you've got the Halloween spirit," said Mouse, infected with Pascal's smile.

"What's the Halloween spirit?" they asked severally.

Mouse smiled. "It rises up from the bog, a foul vapor, and floats through the thin air, twisting, curling, now rising, now falling, spinning as it sails through the darkness of the unholy night, searching the still, black darkness, searching for a vessel: human," he lowered his voice to just above a whisper, leaned toward them, and unconsciously, they leaned closer to him as he continued, "a vessel, weak, flawed, sick at heart, twisted with bitterness, ready, willing to do its dark bidding, MWA, HA, HA, HA, HA!" They jumped at his loud, humorless mirth. He laughed. "You guys are so gonna lose," he said, grinning.

They'd decorated the Common Area for the children's Halloween party with red and white checkered tablecloths, miniature pumpkin centerpieces, hay bales and corn stalks. The party had been fun, for children and adults. William asked everyone to give him at least an hour to redecorate for the adult gathering. Parents led their children away to tuck them into warm, safe beds. Mouse had the idea that they should have a pre-party warm up gathering in the park. As expected, Mary wanted to stay below with the orphans. Equally as unremarkable, Father simply wanted to stay below. But lightness of heart is a virulent illness that spreads aggressively, snatching up its victims; Vincent threatened to carry both of them up if they refused to walk. He insisted they were going to be selfish for a few hours, one night of the year, and have some fun with the grown-ups. Michael and Rebecca volunteered, alas, too eagerly, to watch over the orphans: Vincent carried Father the first twenty-five yards.

They emerged from the drainage tunnel a few at a time. Some took an alternate exit. Their rendezvous point: a bench on the Mall. Central Park was crawling with hideous creatures, ghouls, ogres, zombies, mortally wounded people with jagged, bleeding open wounds, some impaled, still bearing the spike…

"Quite a mess up here, isn't it?" asked Father, looking around.

It was a carnival atmosphere; strangers paused at the bench to wish them Happy Halloween, and give small pieces of candy. Some admired the 'costumes' of the Tunnel Dwellers, and wanted to chat. Eerie music was playing on dozens of cell phones, making the hair on the back of Catherine's neck rise. The crispness of the air pinched their noses and cheeks; they could see their breath. The darkness of the night really did seem to press down upon them, and the stars looked close enough to touch, twinkling like diamonds set in ebony. Their hearts fluttered a little with excitement, and the mounting suspense of the limitless potential of such a magical night.

Jamie had helped Narcissa up from Below, and sat next to her on the bench. Narcissa started talking, and most people sat down on the ground before her to listen. "It was many years ago, when these lands were still wild country, covered with forests and forest creatures, birds, bears, cougars, raccoons. The Native Americans lived here before white men came; their villages were woven, harmoniously, into the forest. There was a beautiful Oneida maiden, who had just entered womanhood. She loved, and she was loved, by a handsome young brave, who had entered manhood only a short time before. They sat next to each other in the evenings, at their parents' fires, discussing their future, taking counsel from them. They walked the forest paths, holding hands, picking flowers, talking, always talking. They rarely kissed, for fear of becoming overwhelmed with passion, and spoiling the joy of discovery on their wedding night." Vincent squeezed Catherine's hand. "The Medicine Man watched their love blooming, and became sick at heart with jealousy. He had no woman, and had watched the maid for years, since she was a small girl. He wanted her. He wanted to take her from the young brave. One day when the maid was gathering food from the forest, the Medicine Man transformed himself into a pheasant and showed himself to the maid. The maid, thinking to capture the bird to feed her family, ran after it. The Medicine Man led the maid far away from the village, to an isolated cave under a waterfall. The maid followed the pheasant into the cave; the Medicine Man returned to his true form. He tried to make love to the maid, but she fought him. Angry at her rejection, the Medicine Man threw her down a crevice, and left the cave. The maid cried for over an hour, but then she began to explore the crevice, looking for a way to climb out. Alas, she could find no way to escape. She began to hope that her love would find her, and rescue her. Night fell, and it became very cold in the crevice. She was discovered missing, and the village searched for her until they could no longer see. The village, and especially the maid's lover, spent every minute searching for the maid for five days, from first light to nightfall. But after five days, the coldness of the nights, and lack of food and water proved to be more than the gentle maid could withstand, and her spirit left her body." Narcissa's voice fell, and she bowed her head. The audience breathed a collective _awww_.

She resumed, "The next morning, the young brave rowed his canoe up the stream, still searching for the maid. After a time, he thought he heard singing. He continued to row, and the singing became more distinct. It sounded like the maid! He continued to row until he came to the waterfall. He saw the maid running into it! He landed the canoe, and followed her. He discovered the cave, and went inside. Eventually, he found the crevice. He found her body. He almost died of grief on the spot." Narcissa's voice hit such a plaintive pitch, a collective _oohhh_, was wrenched from the hearts of the audience. Vincent hung his head into Catherine's neck and sniffled into her ear in mock mourning. Catherine dug into his ribs with an elbow, and whispered, "Silly ass." He chuckled softly and hugged her.

Narcissa continued, "With help from the villagers, he brought her body home, and they gave her a beautiful funeral. A few days passed, and the Medicine Man ventured out into the forest, to gather herbs for his tonics. After a time, he thought he heard the sound of singing. It was very beautiful, so he tried to find the source of the sound. As he walked, the singing became more distinct, and more beautiful. The sound led him to the pool at the base of the waterfall where he'd taken the maid. He leaned over the bank to look into the water, and _saw the face of the maid looking back at him!_ He gasped with fear; she reached with her arms up out of the water, grabbed him by the throat, and pulled him under!" Everyone's eyes widened; they gasped. Catherine reached back for Vincent; he wrapped the length of his arms around her. _A hand reached out from under the bench and grabbed Jamie's wrist!_ Jamie screeched in fear! Everyone gasped as they caught sight of the hand on Jamie's wrist. Vincent was leaning forward to lunge when Mouse emerged from under the bench, laughing. Jamie's eyes flashed. She rose, and started after Mouse, who was scurrying away. Some laughed; some shouted. Narcissa concluded, "Forever after, when the moon is full, you can hear the sound of singing at that sad waterfall, and sometimes even see the maid peering into the forest, looking for her lover to come rescue her."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the end of the story, applauded and congratulated Narcissa for having done so well. Catherine looked up and caught Olivia's eye. Kanin was holding her tightly around the waist. Olivia winked at Catherine, and counterfeited a shiver of fear. Kanin turned her to face him, leaned his face down into hers, and shushed the 'fears' away, consoling her.

They were ready to head back Below. One or two at a time, they drifted away from the bench, and made their way to various entrances. Except for Father and Mary. A woman in a gypsy costume had attached herself to Father, and he wasn't trying very hard to get away. In Mary's case, a man disguised as a pirate had discovered her, and was not letting his treasure escape easily. Neither was Mary too anxious to part, so she decided to tell her ghost story, which would also serve as cover for the others to make their exit.

"Yes, you know, I was a nurse for twenty-eight years," she began. "They say all hospitals are haunted, and I believe it."

"Come, Mary," said Father, "not really."

"Yes—Jacob, I really do," said Mary, careful to not call him 'Father'. "There were plenty of odd things that happened at the hospital I worked in, and my friends who were nurses can all tell stories of things that just can't be explained in rational terms."

"Tell us," said Mary's new friend, the Pirate.

"Well, the strangest story I ever heard was also the saddest. You may remember reading about Jared Dorset in the papers? He was a twenty-three year old young man who used to work at the same hospital I worked at. Well, one night he had too much to drink, and tried to drive his car home. He got into an accident, and killed the other driver. The other driver was a doctor, his name was Dr. Albert Wescott, and he was in town for a medical convention. He was an oncologist, attending the convention to learn more about a new surgical technique. They got into an accident and Dr. Wescott was killed.

"Well, Jared didn't have a scratch on him, and he ran from the scene. They never caught him. A friend had stolen the car he was driving. There were no witnesses, so it was very hard for the police to investigate.

"A few days later, Jared was at work at our hospital. He worked the midnight shift, eleven p.m. to seven a.m. He was mopping on the first basement level. The operating room was on that level, the x-ray department, the Emergency Room, the Lab, and the Intensive Care Unit. Jared was mopping the hall outside the Lab, when one of the doctors, dressed in green scrubs, a long white lab coat, and surgical bonnet, came around the corner and said 'we need some help in the O.R. Follow me!" So Jared leaned his mop against a wall, and when he turned around, the doctor was almost around the corner. So Jared scurried to catch up, but as he rounded the corner, he saw the doctor heading around another corner! So he hurried down the hall, but he just caught a glimpse of the doctor at the end of the hall, and he was going around another corner! Well, Jared ran down the hall trying to catch up, and when he came around the corner, bam! He ran face first into the arm of an x-ray machine, and it knocked him out cold.

"When Jared woke up, he couldn't open his eyes. He felt himself lying down, and he was cold. He could feel air on all of his skin, and he thought he might be naked. He couldn't really breathe, and he felt a pipe down his throat, and he heard the whooshing sound of a ventilator close by. He tried to move, but he couldn't. He heard a voice saying, '…are you sure? He's the best looking cadaver I've ever seen…oh, well, let's harvest,' and the next thing he felt was pain like he never knew existed as the surgical team cut out all his organs, and parts of his eyes." Her small audience gasped.

"Later that day, Dr. Wescott's widow and his brother came to identify his body. His widow was sobbing, leaning on her brother in law for support. His brother's eyes were red-rimmed, and he was sniffling. They followed the tech into the morgue, and watched as he pulled open a drawer. They nodded and mumbled, 'yes, that's him,' as they looked down on the body of their beloved husband and brother, clad in green scrubs, long white lab coat, and surgical bonnet."

The woman with Father gasped; the Pirate groaned loudly, but smiled. They chatted for several minutes more; then only with difficulty did Father and Mary manage to extricate themselves-but only after accepting the phone numbers pressed upon them, and promises of future meetings were made. They drifted away, losing themselves in the crowd before entering the drainage tunnel.

They were the last to enter the common dining area. Kanin and Olivia, Vincent and Catherine, Cullen, Mouse, Rebecca, Jamie…it seemed like everyone was there. William had done a wonderful job on the decorations. He'd added a few skeletons, some skulls, ghosts, and three tables replete with party snacks. Mouse was ready to eat, so he lifted the cover off the largest serving plate.

Catherine looked up in time to see it: _William's decapitated head_, propped up on a serving dish, apple stuck in his mouth, gore and blood sloshing on the plate. She screamed. Vincent pulled her close. He followed her gaze, and then covered her eyes. Catherine's shrieking lead to everyone else's screaming, and panic reigned.

Then William opened his eyes, spit out the apple, and crawled out from under the table. For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then he spoke, "I guess we know who's King of the Halloween Ball." Almost everyone's jaw dropped open. About half the hall laughed, half the hall got angry and said he'd gone too far, that his stunt didn't count as a story.

Vincent cleared his throat. "May I have your attention, please?" The room quieted. "Catherine would like to be the next story teller. Catherine," he said, and made a sweeping motion for her to take the floor.

"Thank you," she said. A little space cleared out on the floor in front of her. "My story takes place in New Orleans, long, long ago, before the Civil War. It's a very sad story, and dangerous to tell. It's the story of a powerful voodoo priestess, and the dark magic she used to control her victims." Her voice dropped low. "Oh, yes, her name was Madame Marie Chouteau, and she cursed anyone telling this story to a terrible, painful death. His blood will boil, his heart will explode, his brain will liquefy and seep out of his ears! Even after all these years, the curse still lives, it still has power. Madame Chouteau had the power to tell the future, and speak with the dead. The richest people in New Orleans called on her to speak to their deceased loved ones. There was one man, Charles Fontaine, who had loved his wife very much. She died giving birth to their daughter-" She stopped suddenly, and stood still, putting her hand to her throat. It looked like she was choking.

There were some groans of disbelief from the audience. Another injury/maiming, really? She dropped her coffee cup. She looked at Vincent, eyes huge, panicked. Thinking she was choking, he circled her waist from behind, but before he could apply a Heimlich maneuver, she went limp in his arms. Any disbelief was dispelled.

"Catherine!" Vincent cried, and lowered her to the floor. She began to twitch, and arch her back. A stream of blood trickled out of her mouth. She was breathing, but too fast, panting.

Father was at her side immediately, but Vincent put up a restraining arm. "Stay back, Father, I know what to do," said Vincent. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a French fry, held it up for a moment so all could see it, then used it to sweep some of the 'blood' off Catherine's cheek, and popped it in his mouth.

The room moaned, groaned, shouted. Catherine opened her eyes and laughed, and sat up. Vincent smiled. "You're delicious," he whispered to her. She laughed and kissed him quickly. He helped her stand.

"Cathy, how did you get the ketchup in your mouth?" asked Lena.

"It was when Vincent was holding me and I pretended to faint. He had ketchup packets in his hand, and we squirted them into my mouth," she answered.

"Oh, my god, hilarious," answered Lena, laughing.

"Were you scared?" asked Catherine.

"Yes! We were all scared!" laughed Lena.

"Okay, no more pretending to be hurt!" yelled Cullen. Many people moaned. "No! No! It's not a story, and it's too scary," he insisted. Voices were raised in opposition. Voices were raised in support. The debate began.

While the arguments were being aired, many more people helped themselves to the snacks. Pascal got two glasses of punch and put several cookies on a plate. He carried them back to a table where a pretty young woman waited for him. Her name was Clarisse, and she'd grown up Below. Pascal had always liked her, and felt comfortable with her. Lately, he'd been seeking her out, and spending more time with her. She looked happy, chatting quietly with him. William, now cleaned up, joined them at their table. His plate had a bit of all the offerings, and he carried a glass of punch, also. Vincent and Catherine came behind William, and sat down with their plates and drinks.

"William, this food!" exclaimed Catherine. "It's fantastic! Especially this cheese," she said as she bit into a cracker with a white cheese spread on it.

"You know, I made that cheese myself," William said.

"You made cheese? How do you make cheese?" asked Catherine, incredulous.

"It's really not hard to do, and considering the flavor you can get, it's worth it," he said.

"Vincent, did you try this?" Catherine asked, turning to him. He looked blank, then shook his head. She spread some of the stuff on a cracker, and held it to his mouth.

He opened his mouth and allowed her to feed him. She smiled at him, and licked a smudge of the cheese off her thumb. "Isn't that delicious?" she asked. Vincent looked at her, chewing slowly, and nodded. He loved this game. This little bit of business appeared to be so very innocent, but between themselves, they knew there was nothing innocent about it. There was something terribly arousing, very exciting, about feeding each other. They had discovered this some time ago, accidently, when Catherine did offer Vincent a taste of food from her dish, actually innocent of any motivation other than Vincent's pleasure. However, when he took the proffered taste, when his lips closed around her fingertip, when she felt the caress of his warm tongue on the tip of her pointer, they were both instantly, deeply aroused. Their eyes met, and they both stopped breathing for a fraction of a second. They were in the common dining area at the time, and felt compelled to behave discretely. However, Vincent could not resist repeating the experiment. He scooped a bit of gravy on a small bit of bread; he used the claw on his thumb to pin the bread down to the side of his index finger. He assumed the most innocent expression he could muster, and called her attention. "Catherine?" he said, and held out the lure. She made an assessment; she searched his eyes. She knew it was a trap. She took the bait anyway, lightly gripping his hand, pressing her lips to his finger, sucking the tidbit away then licking off his finger, then looking him in the eye. She released his hand, and he raised his thumb and finger to his mouth, and subtly sucked them. Without a word, they stood and left the dining area, their meals half eaten.

And now here she was, offering him cheese on a cracker. 'Isn't that delicious,' indeed. He watched her lick her thumb sensuously; he started breathing a little quickly. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "_Il bacio della morte_," he whispered in her ear. _The kiss of death_. She giggled. He began to consider plans for retribution.

The great Injury Ruse Debate raged on, but Pascal was finished with his food, and ready to tell his story. He stood up on his chair. "HEY!" he yelled. The room got quiet. "I'm ready to tell my story," he announced, and jumped down.

"Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, right here in New York City, there lived a young woman named Emily, and a young man, named Richard. They were very much in love, and wanted to marry. But back in those days, people weren't free to marry whoever they wanted. Children, especially girls, were considered to be the property of their fathers'. They had to marry the man their father picked out for them. Emily's father liked to play cards, and bet, but he didn't win very often, and he owed one of his friends, Sir Robert Benson, a lot of money from gambling. He had no way to pay off the debt, so he agreed to let his friend marry Emily in exchange for forgiving the debt.

"It wasn't long after the marriage that neighbors, shop keepers, her friends, the rest of her family started noticing bruises on her. Richard couldn't help her. As a married woman, Emily was the property of her husband. Women were not allowed to divorce their husbands. The day came, it was inevitable, that Sir Benson went too far, and beat Emily to death. A few days after they buried her, they found Richard's body lying on her grave. He'd stabbed himself through the heart." A sad cry of _oohhhh_, went up. Catherine joined in, and reached to hug Vincent, and this time, he didn't mock. He pulled her close.

"A few nights later, Emily's father was walking home from a card game. It was late, so he took a shortcut through the cemetery. He started thinking about Emily, and soon he actually smelled her perfume! Then, he thought he heard her calling him! 'Father! Father! Father, I begged you, I begged you, Father, please don't make me marry him! He killed me, Father! He killed me!' And she sobbed. Then, he could actually see her ghost, floating alongside him! 'You were my father, you were supposed to protect me, you were supposed to protect me!' And she started sobbing again. Terrified, he began to run. But then he saw the ghost of Richard floating alongside him! Richard started moaning, 'Come with us, old man, come with us, away with us, away with us, away to the land of shadows, away, come, into the grave with us, with us, into the grave, with us, WITH US!' And Emily's father felt the dead, icy fingers of Richard and Emily grabbing him!"

Secretly, Pascal had arranged for about every fifth person to grab the person next to him or her at this point in the story. The screaming was terrific. Pascal himself had moved behind Clarisse, and grabbed her. She screamed, but then started laughing, delighted.

Mary re-told her story; it was very well received, with moaning, gasping, and crying out.

"Anyone else?" Winslow called out. "Mouse, how about you?"

"Naw," Mouse replied, hardly looking up. He was sitting by Jamie, and they were holding hands, whispering, and smiling soft, sweet smiles at each other. Catherine smiled and looked up into Vincent's eyes, to find him looking lovingly down on her. "Kiss me?" she whispered. "No," he whispered back, "no, cheese-teaser, I have no kisses for you." She laughed softly, tickled by his gentle teasing, made the gentler as he pulled her onto his lap, wrapped an arm around her waist and one across her torso, and pulled her back to his chest. "Let that be your punishment," he whispered in her ear. She turned her head; he kissed her lips tenderly.

William had found five identical jars, and wrote the names of the story tellers on slips of paper. He put the slips in front of the jars, and set out a bowl of marbles. People could vote for their favorite story by dropping a marble in a jar.

Musicians played. Lisa had taught them the Virginia Reel, and they loved it. For the next few hours, people ate, talked, laughed, voted, and danced. Many hearts swelled to see Vincent, the loner, the stoic, dancing and laughing with the rest of the group. Many hearts silently embraced Catherine for being the agent of the change.

When everyone had voted, Narcissa was the winner, but Mary and Pascal were very close. Narcissa was thrilled to be crowned Halloween Ball Queen. The orchestra played a waltz; she and Father swooped and spun elegantly as they led the dancing. Her skirt swirled wide, rustling loudly. Father looked so pleased and proud to dance with her. He'd had quite a night, going above, flirting, now dancing…he looked so happy.

Morrigan, Badb, Macha, perched on a ledge high above the merry-makers, staring down at them, glumly, dour.

"What sayest thou, Morrigan?," rasped Macha in high-pitched helium flavored inflection. "Your word is law. Proclaim your order."

"Speak, Morrigan," wheezed Badb, the words grated out, "On this most revered Samhain night, what is your charge? Mercy? Or pitiless ordinance?"

"We must not adjudicate in haste," warned Morrigan. "The mortals did well with their agreeable tale-telling. The question must be asked, is that sufficient cause for us to sway from our steadfast intent?"

They searched one another's eyes with unflinching gaze. They turned, and surveyed the mortals.

They spoke the damning syllable with one voice, "No."

They rubbed their hands together. They cackled evil, mirthless laughter.

A beautifully wrapped package appeared on the center buffet table. Mouse noticed it first. "Hey," he sang out, "what's this?" He picked it up. There was a tag attached that read, 'For the Most Beautiful Woman in the Room.'

"Quickly! Quickly, plodders! Spread the seeds of dissention!" screeched Morrigan. Mabd and Macha darted about the ceiling like mad things, casting a fine glittering powder down upon the mortals. Morrigan chuckled.

"Father! Vincent! Kanin! Come look!" he called. They came.

"Vincent? Did you do this?" asked Mouse.

"No. Kanin?" asked Vincent.

"No," Kanin answered.

"Let's see what's in it," said Mouse, reaching to open it.

"Well, no," objected Kanin, quickly, yanking the package away. "We should let whoever it's for open it."

Mouse, Vincent, and Kanin all shrugged then tugged on the package at the same time. A buzz went around the room describing the situation. Alliances were forged, sides were chosen: instantly. Voices began to rise.

A tension came over Catherine, one she had not felt since she worked at her father's firm. It was during a time when she was involved in very heated contract negotiations between their client and the union that represented the labor at that company. _Aww, nah, nah, nah…_she had plans for Vincent, of which, as yet, she had not made him aware. And he did not have one extra ounce of energy to waste on a purposeless argument. There was a choice to be made; she made it.

She leaned close to Olivia, and started whispering. Olivia's face almost immediately lit up. She giggled, she nodded agreement. They pulled Jamie in to themselves, whispered for a few moments. Jamie's eyes got large, then she too was nodding agreement.

They approached The Men. Olivia held her hands out, palms up. The room hushed. Kanin placed the package carefully in her hands.

Olivia walked to Mary's table, and set the package down. "Mary," she said, "you are the most beautiful woman in this room, we all agree. You give everything you've got to give every day, and ask for nothing in return. You've raised us, you've raised our children. We love you." And they hugged her.

Tears dripped down Mary's cheeks. Peter, sitting next to her, squeezed her hand.

"Open it," urged Jamie.

Mary pulled off the ribbon and opened the lid. She reached in, and pulled out an exquisite crystal apple. "_Oooooo_," a sigh of admiration went up.

"No one deserves it more than Mary!" yelled William. "Three cheers for Mary!" he yelled, and led them.

Catherine, in the meantime, was talking with the quintet. When the cheering was finished, the First String announced, "Okay, everyone! Last dance!" The quintet struck up _Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me_.

The three evil fairies trembled with rage, and then exploded. First Morrigan, a purple splash; then Macha, a crimson flame; then Madb, a blue vortex.

Lovers met on the dance floor. Vincent and Catherine glided to each other, then with each other in a slow, romantic dance. When the song ended, they bid the others a good night, and embracing one another around the waist, made their way to their chamber.


End file.
